


Exactly Where I'm at

by Abhorable



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Murder, Violence, relationships? what relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:13:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abhorable/pseuds/Abhorable
Summary: Little stories all piling together to form one giant mess.





	1. Break-In [1]

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ODDFELLOWS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658397) by [DrTanner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrTanner/pseuds/DrTanner). 



> PLEASE READ
> 
> I hate leaving notes because they're annoying and we all know what you're here for, but I'd like to make a quick few mentions. I promise I won't regularly leave notes.  
> All characters are mentioned because A.) I don't want to tag them later B.) They will all eventually show up and have a chapter. Which brings me to how this will be written.  
> There's a couple main/reoccurring characters that will have multiple chapters, but mainly that each character will get their own chapter in the long run.   
> Chapters will try to be anywhere from 1,500-2,500 words.   
> And, one last quick thing, the title isn't supposed to make sense yet, but it will.

The aura of MacMillan Estate wasn't one Myers preferred. The fog was more than annoying to lend his sight through, let alone spot someone meandering around within the grass. Cold, slightly damp hands clutched onto his weapon of choice as he walked through the dewy grass.

The Storehouse remained entranced in darkness as Michael made his way to it, the soft but unmistakable sputter of a pitiful excuse for a machine revved patiently beside the building. It was only fair to help out whomever was working on it, after all.  
The much shorter man who had been working on the generator shrieked as Michael grabbed and threw him to the ground, glasses tumbling off of his face. And, off to the hook we go, small friend. Wandering out of the collage of boxes and into the open, a hook awaited, so Michael would take his first chance at success head on. Slinging him upon the metal bar, hearing the man's ribs crack and split just under his deafening cry for help.  
He should have probably kept more mind to his back, if this frightened him.

The Runner girl dashed between the treeline, and Michael began to watch, approaching as much as he could before she got near the, no longer, glasses wearing man.   
She, too, was pulled off of the hook and brought to a new one further down in the clearing, her panicked wailing the only thing to really consume Michael's conscious for the next half an hour or so. At least, that's how long he thinks it was. Was most likely around there. 

How long has it been since he'd seen a clock? The thought crossed his mind again as he threw the writhing Laurie upon a hook, the Beast's claws dragging her up into the sky.  
It'd only be a matter of time until he'd be summoned and dragged down to do the same-old, same-old. Killing was becoming easier, almost lazy. The survivors he faced only grew in strength, and now it was becoming more difficult to wrangle them into submission, but Michael would deal. 

 

There really wasn't that much time to further contemplate the situation before black fog consumed the masked man, swooping him off his feet and down onto Lampkin Lane. He truly would never get over the sick feeling that raced up his spine every time that happened.

Plopped back onto solid ground, Michael began his trek back to his old home. Chipping paint and moldy wallpaper slowly falling off the walls of the structure, the once happy suburban home truly did radiate only good things. It truly deteriorated much further once The Entity had taken his old home for it's own purposes of the little game it played.  
At least the smell didn't bother him anymore. And no doubt the smell would've been worse if It decided to keep food in the neighborhood. That's just wasteful. 

No doors in this house, Michael took a moment to remind himself. He was drifting off from normal thoughts more than usual, but that's alright. So long as it didn't affect the Work he did, it wouldn't matter.   
Stumbling up the stairs, he plucked the unevenly cut piece of glass from his shoulder. Nothing out of the ordinary when dealing with Laurie, after all. She was a nuisance, a pest that needed to be dealt with before anyone else. Drawing all of Michael's attention on her whenever she could, and over all running him mad.

A loud, more than metallic clang came from the kitchen. Perhaps a crow had slipped into the window, but it was enough to draw Michael out of his thoughts and back down the stairs to his kitchen.   
Soft, staggering breathing accompanied his own. What a surprise.

Craning his neck over the kitchen counter, it was more than a shock to find, what he had been calling, Flower girl, sitting there, terrified out of her wits. She was even covering her mouth in a minimal attempt to stop breathing so heavily. Within the pile of worn cooking pots, she was very clearly noticeable. Her hands craned together around her mouth, she seemed as if she was praying.   
Michael was, astonished, to say the least. The girl was just sitting there, in his kitchen, covered in the fallout from many pots and pans. And she hadn't noticed him yet. 

He could probably grab her by the throat and bash her skull on the sink before cutting her limbs off. No fuss about it.   
Physically taking a human life is so easy. And he could just do it. Right now.

The thoughts coiled and jumbled for a while, each thing he could do in order to end this girl's life in the most insufferably slow, or quick and painless, ways. That is, until the realization of what might happen. It might not like that. It might take Michael down and personally kill him, which, Michael honestly enjoyed doing Work for The Beast. 

And so, he began to merely pick up the pots and pans strewn about on the floor. Even behind his mask, he could feel the genuine terror filling the atmosphere, so thick he could cut it.   
Flower girl could stay for a few moments more, he decided. He wasn't going to do anything just yet. Not unless she failed to leave.

He stood beside the refrigerator, waiting quietly. It took a few minutes before the Flower girl peered up from her beanie, tears of pure, utter fear streaming down her cheeks. No sniffling pity, just utter terror imbalanced by dry eyes.   
She shakily got up, putting a hand to the counter to balance herself before dead sprinting out of the building. 

He couldn't quite blame her for the reaction.   
Not really, anyways. Anyone who hadn't been trained to kill and was in the same situation, would have been the same. In fact, if he had to deal with some of the other killers he had seen, he may have just wanted to over all avoid them.

Rearranging the cutlery and such tossed to the floor, and having done so for a good twenty minutes, it dawned on Michael that Flower Girl was probably still wandering around the area. Michael hadn't even correctly figured out how to hop from area to area in The Beast's Realm. Not without the help of another. Michael didn't know how to get where he wanted most of the time. He'd stumble into different areas but never where he wanted. Or, he'd be thrust into a trial.

 

Should he even do anything about the predicament he had only ended up bringing upon to himself? Most likely not. But one can think, can't they? Brain chemicals still ticking up top, heart still thundering against the ribs, and most certainly with a suspended reach of morality in this realm. It had to be the one thing Michael appreciated besides getting to kill without any risk. He could, in theory, do it forever.   
The girl once again standing in his doorway was all it took for Michael to snap out of his mental predicament. 

So, she'd come back. Most likely looking for a way out. 

"Laurie said you didn't speak. That's true, right," was her first of what Michael assumed to be many queries.   
Standing there ominously seemed to be enough of a response for her.  
"Do you know the, the way out? Of... of Haddonfield?" Her words quivered in a tired stutter. Michael only could assume just how strange this was for her, if anything. But it wasn't his problem, after all.  
Standing without speaking. In his kitchen. That's about it.

"Please, I need to get back, they're, they're worried about me and-" Flower girl stopped herself, finding whatever words she wanted to say without tripping on her own tongue. "Do, do you need anything from me for you to take me out of here?"  
She was trying to make it his problem.

Michael moved back into the kitchen, opening a drawer.   
"Please don't hurt me, I promise I won't save anyone the next time you're there to sacrifice us-" He pulled out a pen and paper. 

The word 'NAME' was scrawled in very messy handwriting, all capital letters with a period at the end. 

"I- well. My name is Claudette." She shifted her weight awkwardly, caught off guard mostly by how she wasn't being stabbed to death. "Morel. My surname."  
So they all did have names.  
This was interesting.

Michael waved his hand for her to come closer, like he had seen all of them do before while he was working. He'd lead her to where she most likely came from. It was where the other killers would come from as well.  
Perhaps the both of them would just get thrown in another trial.

He walked past her in the doorway, and out of the house. Through the dead center of the rubble pathway of his childhood home, they cut across the street to one of the neighbor's yards.   
It descended into lush forest from here. As far as Michael could tell, The Beast transitioned realms from there. 

Taking a brief look behind himself in order to see 'Claudette' still behind him, Michael pointed to the forest now behind him.

"Thank you for not murdering me yet." The look of terror on her face said other things other than "Thank You" but, Michael wasn't exactly going to question it.

She slipped off into the foliage covered abyss, leaving a bored Michael behind.

 

When was that next trial, anyways?


	2. Ambiguous [2]

Standing outside Léry's Memorial Institute, Herman could only shudder with anticipation. Fabricated snow fluttering down, he was ready to begin his little trip.   
The Entity had brought him back to his old work place, somewhere he could be more than familiar in his roundabout of sacrifice. Curling the fingers in his left hand, the hunt would begin, on a search for the ones The Entity held near and dear to itself, only for murder. Plain and simple. 

Upon throwing his energy behind one of the generators, the shrieking of two people rang in Carter's ears. Laughter ringing through the room on auto-pilot, he plunged his best instrument of torture right through one of the survivor's left arm. 

The one he'd hit was the girl who had shown up in the Realm as he did. He always did like the way she screamed compared to all the others.   
Lovely. 

Strutting through the institute in pursuit of the girl, Herman would simply end up doing his job in beating her down again. 

Passing the corner on his way to the next generator, a breathy sigh of relief from behind him caught the man off guard. Whipping himself around, weapon in hand, he swung blindly into whoever was attempting to sneak away. 

It was the one girl with the teal shirt. She'd begun to start shrieking as her body hit the tiled floor, head nearly cracking into the wall. Throwing her onto his shoulder, the crimson blood dripping down into his coat, he made his way to a hook and slung her upon it. 

The weight of her body off his shoulders, the game would go on. 

 

One left now. 

Two had been sacrificed, and the third had found a key and simply left. 

Only one left. 

That is, if Herman could find them before they found the hatch. Fortunately for him, rounding the next corner turned up with the teal-shirted girl. Throwing his weapon into her before she had a chance to react, she was back on the ground again. 

And now- 

"Kill me, Pussy!" She screeched, from the ground. Lacking even the basic sense to crawl away. Really pathetic now. "I saw you bring in the Mori, you cunt!" 

He had brought in a Cypress Mori, hadn't he? Nonetheless, in all of his years, Doctor Herman Carter, has rarely ever had someone asking for their death. Even rarer has he not obliged. 

Rubbing his hands together for a quick charge, he threw them over her face as the familiar smoke rose from her face. 

 

It was then that he realized how he's never heard one of them speak until now. They were always dead quiet as not to alert him, and now they've spoken. 

Quite the interesting little specimen she was, in all honesty. Quiet, quick to her feet. Annoying but satisfying to the catch. Being able to best her was always a fun game in itself, and always worth the chase. 

The generators began to dissipate, fog taking them with the Exit Gates and leaving Léry's surrounded by the familiar Entity's woods. Watching the winter turn to autumn as he gazed outside, Herman waltzed back towards his office, content with his results of the proceeding trial. 

Though that was the case, he'd now have to begin taking notes on this phenomenon. See whether it repeated and how it would do so. The disoriented office would have to be organized sometime soon, as the newer files were mixing with the old. He couldn't have that. 

Taking a new file from the drawer and throwing it lazily to the desk, he took a seat and began to scrawl down his thesis. 

 

Called to a trial mid-paragraph, upon returning to the institute, Carter decided on taking a quick jaunt through the woods. If only just for a moment. Perhaps consider his research with a fellow of his jurisdiction of sacrificial hands. 

Stepping into the long dead grass, he persisted, hiking through the woods until he assumed he would end up being apparated to a different murderer's whereabouts, or find 'The Shack'. 

Having not seen the light change, and scrap metal sheets buried beneath the ground more visible, Herman would mentally prepare himself to deal with Mr. Evan MacMillan himself. 

Not that he had anything against the man, after all. He was merely stingy and despised Herman with every fiber of his being no matter what approach he took, which seemed reasonable enough. 

A man of his time just didn’t quite accept doctors of Carter's stature, nothing all to strange with that. 

That is, until it made conversation difficult and awkward. 

It wasn't more than a good minute before Herman arrived to the scene, of Evan nearly smashing one of the survivors against the side of the shack as they were in a choke hold. 

Joy. 

 

"You're going to tell me in what name you arrived here because I have never even come close to seeing this," MacMillan rasped, gruff voice echoing off of the bone covering his face while the girl pressed against the shack squirmed fruitlessly. 

"Evan-" Herman started to make a statement only to be cut off. 

"Oh, in the name of- what the hell are you doing here, creep?" His scowl apparent even behind the mask. 

A hand being placed upon his shoulder nearly made Herman jump, though when Evan set the girl down, it outright shocked him. Slightly literally. 

Watching Phillip walk forward from Herman's side was a bit of a given, going to help the girl to her feet as she slid the beanie back on her head. Looking towards Evan he pointed upwards and mimed a bowtie being tied. 

"More formal, right, right." He shook his head in approval to Evan's translation. "Look, girl. Can we get a name?" 

She huffed under her breath, staring intently at the ground. 

"Speak up." 

"My name is Nea," She stumbled to her feet, her words firm and cold. "And I don't know how the fu-heck I got here, but I want to leave as much as you want me gone." 

"Right. I'll kill two birds with one stone," His head rose to Carter. "Find a border and bring her through it. I don't care where she goes, I don't want Max anywhere near her. Hear me?" 

"Very ordain, Mr. MacMillan," an involuntarily long chuckle escaped Herman as he brought his eyes back to 'Nea'. "I'll see what I can do." 

"Now get out of my sight." 

"See you soon." 

Herman motioned to the woods where he'd end up walking back, Nea following in more than a great distance of five feet. Anxious silence was more than clear as they wandered through the near identical replicates of each tree. 

"Tell me, Nea. Have you or your fellow... coworkers ever spoken to one of us," Herman was, notably, the first to speak. 

"We didn't know any of you could speak, to be honest Doc," Sassy but firm. Fair. "Claude got all lost out here after her last trial and Michael brought her back. She said he didn't say nothin'." 

"Oh, really now? I hadn't the slightest idea." 

"You don't talk to the other killers?" 

"Michael likes no-one, Phillip cannot speak, Anna only speaks Russian, and, mostly, like with Mr. MacMillan there, they don't particularly appreciate my company." 

"Aw gee. Can't see why." 

As the, more than unsettling pair, arrived upon the institute, the worry on Nea's face grew more apparent. 

"Unless you'd like to walk around the building to the other side of the forest, we're going inside." 

"Fair. I'd rather not be seen by any of your... comrades?" 

Herman laughed a bit before stepping back onto more solid ground. If there was one thing he couldn't get over, it was how loose the dirt felt. 

They began to walk through the treatment room. 

"You said a bunch of names earlier, Doc." 

"Indeed, I did." 

"Don't know why we assumed you didn't have names. Everyone came up with their own terror version to make you all scarier." She paused and caught her breath. "You're more strangely annoying than scary." 

"We all have names. I'm formally known as Doctor Herman Carter, graduate of Yale, or rather CIA programming where I started working for the facility." 

"That's nice. Intimidating, but nice." 

"Quite. What was it that you did?" 

"Tagging artist. I can't tell you how much I want to tag this building." 

"Well, on that note, you'll be leaving." 

"Do I just walk through the woods and-" 

"Yes." 

"I'll get murdered another day then." 

"Oh and, please, don't tag my building. You'll have a lot to explain not only to me, but the Entity as well." 

She didn't stick around much longer than that. 

Herman walked back inside, more than genuinely content with the slight amount of research he pulled from her. He'd update her file very soon. That is, after he rewrote his paper thoroughly enough to not be considered chicken scratch. 

 

This was going so much more productive and well balanced now that she had shown up. He'd be able to mangle her muscles even better now that he had seen how Nea carried herself.


	3. Tired [3]

The chilly night air had become more of a common occurrence for Feng as of arriving in the Nightmare she and the others now called "home". If she had happened to say the words aloud, there would be at least six times more of the spit-fire venom she gave off when connecting the wrong wires on a generator. 

Groggily rubbing her eyes, it became very apparent how many trials were happening at once. Sitting up off the log she happened to plop down on before passing out, she rubs the hair out her face to see Laurie wandering around the plains. 

Gaping hole of rapidly repairing muscles in her shoulder, it's very clear to see what happened there. Feng watched intently as Laurie limped back down to the campfire, staring blankly. 

"How's it going," the blonde started, stumbling to find a seat across from Feng. 

"Not bad. I think I just got mori'd, though," She mumbled at the end.

"You've got to hate that. That was with that creepy Doctor, right?" Feng shuddered. 

"Don't remind me. I'd kick his ass if he knew what was coming to him. No questions asked." 

"Hey, watch your language." Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

"Yea, yea." Laurie didn't seem quite convinced by her sarcasm, though she never was. "'M Sorry Laurie." 

"Thank you, Feng. It's alright." 

There's no doubt in Feng's mind.   
Laurie is the truest of all mom friends. No way could anyone, ever, in the history of all people to ever exist, would there be a better mom friend than Laurie. At least a more accurate "Mom". She insisted she was just a babysitter, though. 

 

It was only a few more moments before Dwight and Jake started on their way back from whatever trial they had with Laurie.   
Dwight doesn't look so good. 

His shirt ripped and sewing itself back together where he was hooked, Jake's shirt seems to be tearing at its seams as well. Whoever the killer was, they did certainly well. But there was no telling until the forth got back. 

"She didn't even try to come get me, Jake," Dwight started to prattle on, malice lacing his words. He wasn't even tripping on a single syllable. 

"Okay," His reply was simple, and no doubt, the calm before the storm. 

"Did Meg get out, Dwight," Laurie jumped in. Oh boy. 

"I don't know, and I don't care. She left us on the hook. She left us." Laurie instantly fell silent, expression dropping. 

"Dwight, she was on the second floor of the Thompson house without any help. We were in the basement on the other side of the cornfield." 

"No, Jake. If Meg had come and done the generator with me, instead of looking for the hexes, we would've been fine." 

The hate dripped off his words in an acidic pit Feng didn't even want to touch. 

"We were against The Hag, Dwight. It's what we needed to do. You're getting too worked up over this, so just cool it."   
"She left us to die, Jake!" 

Tired, mostly pained coughing resonated from the fog. Meg stumbling out of the depths with a deep gash in her side caught everyone off guard. 

"You would not believe where that hatch was-" Dwight's searing glare cut through Meg's lighthearted banter in an instant.   
"Meg."   
"What-why are you all looking at me?" She tried to chuckle at the end, worry consuming her looks. 

"Let it go, Dwight. You've left plenty of us to hang." Jake's stern voice pierced the atmosphere, demanding and firm with the ideals of not fighting right now. 

"I am so done with you-you people! She left us, Jake! You left us, Meg!" 

 

Feng decides she can't do this right now. She's going to wander around the edges of the campfire until she ends up back there.   
She's off on her feet in an instant, the hurricane of a dispute kicking up instantaneously. So, she's doing what Meg would've done in the same situation and runs. And she's not looking back until she's on the other side of the campfire. 

Upon sprinting headfirst into where she would've gone back, it occurs to Feng how large this tree-line is. 

Lush greenery, very unlike what the Entity usually procures, surrounds her. Ferns of lavish size and beautiful turquoise shades, tall redwood trees scraping against the barriers of false reality. 

Feng could do with another nap. 

Blindly making her way through the thick greenery, she finds a patch of dry grass to settle down under. Curling her arms around herself, this would have to do for a place to take her mind off things. It probably wouldn't even be that long of a nap. 

Drifting off, a familiar tune found its way into her ears. Soothed and ready to drift off once again, the tune grew in strength. 

Wait, that was- 

The Huntress was upon her now, peeking her head around the bends of trees. Searching for prey, most likely. 

Feng sat in mute, paralyzed terror. There was no way to outrun this woman, her crazy hatchets making it impossible in the first place.   
She walked right on past her.  
Maybe she didn't see her after all.

Holding her breath an extra moment or so, she'd learned from her past mistakes. The lullaby stopped in it's slow humming. 

And the masked woman looked right at her. Dead into her eyes, she could feel the terror sweeping in. Oh, good lord. The amount of times she'd ended up running The Huntress around spoke for itself. She was a goner. Even if the other killers were nice, there was no way in hell this bitch would let her up enough to escape. 

Frozen, the beastly woman grew closer, until she was sitting on the ground right next to Feng, studying her features. 

Words far too foreign for Feng to understand slipped off her tongue. She smiled without teeth. It might've ended up seeming sweet, or perhaps even motherly, had she not been covered in blood. 

She stood up, taking Feng's hand with her, lifting the girl to her wary feet. 

"Come," Heavy Russian slipped through her voice, as she spoke. Large, yet gentle hands leading Feng to come along with the other. 

The Huntress clearly knew where she was going, and Feng soon saw the large wooded cabin take shape on the edges of the forest.

A very, and Feng could see it clearly, very fresh deer laid sprawled out on the table. Its head bashed open, but meat in mid process of being stripped from the bones. 

A bout of sadness slipped through Feng as she felt the warm hand leave her own, which she trailed with her eyes as the Huntress gave another warm smile. 

"Little One," Feng stared blankly, dumbfounded. "Sit." 

Doing as she was told, Feng pulled a chair out from the main, front and center table. The Huntress disappeared somewhere else within the house, and Feng took a moment to examine the deer before being met with a set plate on the table, as well as a fork and knife. 

The Huntress moved behind her to the running fireplace, taking the plate from Feng. She took what appeared to be a wooden ladle from the pot hanging loosely above the fireplace and setting a good portion of what could only be presumed as stew.   
And wow, if that didn't smell good. 

Taking a moment to consider the last time Feng ate, she took the fork and immediately began to dig in. No complaints coming from her. She was happy to be alive, still. 

Finishing most of her plate, the raven-haired girl looked up to see The Huntress lightly smiling ear to ear. 

"You like?" She asked, a bit quietly this time.   
"I fucking love it." Feng blurted absentmindedly. At least this wouldn't, hopefully, get her killed. 

The Huntress placed a hand upon her much smaller back, smiling and nodding. Patting her on the back, she pulled up her own chair and sat down. 

"I," The Huntress pointed to herself. "Anna. You?" 

Feng paused a moment. There was no real trouble in answering her. After all, she was being fed. "I'm Feng Min." 

"Stay long, da?" Her sentence choppy, and a bit broken, Feng nodded. 

"I'll stay for a while, Anna." Her face lit up like a real child on Christmas. "I'll have to go, but I'll come back a lot. I promise." 

Feng didn't really intend on breaking that promise. The Huntress had been so overwhelmingly sweet to her, bringing food and entry to her sacred home. 

Anna brought her to a nice place upstairs, where it was warm, dry, the ground soft with hay. She truly took this place for granted during trials. Anna wandered off but returned with an absolutely massive quilt. 

She was so nice. So nice for someone probably so annoyed with Feng's run arounds in trials. 

Feng could take her nap in peace, the Huntress besides her and she slept. She'd be okay for once. Without fear of waking up dead in the middle of a trial. 

 

One thing she wasn't expecting, though, was the dream demon. Familiar monotones filled her vision as she drifted to sleep. 

Any worry in her mind was fast to dissipate. Anna must have fallen asleep before her, because oh my, was she beating the demon down.   
She really was a fearless machine. 

Beating Freddy into the ground seemed so easy, the way she did it. Swift hand-to-hand combat was not his style, and it was majorly evident. 

Large ax in one hand, small hatchet in the other, she faced him head on. Blocking his clawed hand with her ax and swinging more than violently with the hatchet.   
A sight to see. 

More than anything else though, Anna tried to wave Feng out of the dream. Fervently, actually.   
On top of Freddy, she was trying more than anything to save Feng. 

 

And she woke up. 

Tired, a bit startled, and now a satchel full of deer meat at her side, she awoke at the campfire. 

"Huh. Was wondering when you'd turn up again," Jake chided. 

"You wouldn't believe what I just saw." 

"Yea, sure." He rolled his eyes, before settling them on the satchel. "Is that food?"


	4. No Rest for the Wicked [4]

Autumn was the eternal season of the Entity's realm. Brisk, chilly air wafting through in waves of fabricated wind. Smell of crisp and cracking leaves, with a light undertone of pumpkin to it. The sights and sounds of the entity were never all that reasonable, but at least it stuck to a season. 

Quentin's eyes lingered on the fire as it danced in its confines of a small stone circle. Even how the fire moved seemed to reflect the winds that came along in slow bouts. A slight lag behind the wind, but the leaves flew in the same orchestrated way. 

Everything was more than strange, now. The way the Entity was allowing killers to associate with survivors outside of the trials was proof enough of that. 

After Claudette's close encounter with Michael, nothing happening was adding up. Nea speaking with the Doctor, and Feng having a full meal with the Huntress. It was too much to handle rationally. 

They were never able to leave the campfire before, why now? It was something Quentin played with ideally for as long as it had been happening. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. It was bizarre. 

Even more bizarre though, was how nobody was currently in a trial. Some of them would be picked off soon enough, but it was hectic with how many casual conversations were going on. 

The only people not sorting their items, or perhaps just having a nice chat, were himself and, oddly enough, Feng. 

Arising from the bench he'd been on, Quentin made his way over to her. She was more than lost in thought, staring down at the ground with her hands on her cheeks. 

"You need me to wake you up there," he chided, giving her a light nudge to the arm. 

"What," her hand moved down from her face, as she lifted her head to speak. "What'dya want?" 

"Theoretically speaking, you look out of your mind. Just a bit. You're not, like, giving up here, are you?" 

"No, just thinking. Is that all, nerd?" 

"You look out of it more than a preacher who's read nothing but the Major Prophets for three hours straight, and still can't understand the words coming out of their mouth." 

"Yea, yea, whatever." She waved him off. "Don't you have something productive to do instead of harassing girls?" 

"Already prepped for the next Trial, so no." 

She only groaned at that. "I just need a minute to myself." 

"Take a nap for a while then." 

"Hypocrite." 

"Just saying." 

 

Until Feng would settle down and get some shut eye, Quentin continually brought it up. And finally, he ended up getting her to, begrudgingly, take a nap. 

Meg was jogging circles around the campfire, pooling and sorting supplies with David, Dwight and Jake. Claudette was off, most likely tending to her beloved garden. Nea and Ace were making bets on their game of War. Detective Tapp was brooding on the outskirts of the campfire, and Laurie was approaching Quentin's area. 

Sitting down on the log with fidgeting hands, she sighed. 

"We're going to get out of here someday," her eyes were glossed with nostalgic sheen. "You know that, don't you?" 

"I sure hope so. Whatever malevolent creature the Entity is, it, more than possibly, can't keep us forever." He smiled, giving a light pat to her back. 

"You knew Freddy before you were here, yeah?" 

"And?" 

"I knew Michael." 

"You're getting at?" 

"I don't know. Just that us, 'n Tapp, it's always a bit freaky knowing you're up against someone who has something out for you." 

"But we get out alive." 

"Not yet, but we'll get out of this whole game alive." Laurie gave a light smile. 

Quentin smiled back, but it wasn't going to last. The heavy drawling whisper of the Entity drawing him to the border of the Campfire. He and Laurie stood up, Dwight and Nea already on their way out. 

This was going to be an interesting trial. 

Scrounging up his latest and greatest flashlight, he was off and into the abyss. 

Was it just him, or was the MacMillan Estate always this dark and gloomy? The fog was thick as hell, but that was Dwight's doing. 

At least the generators were still visible, it would be hell if they weren't. 

He shoved his hands in the abundant mess of chords and started going for it. No time to lose at the start of a trial, after all. 

The pistons were going faster now, nearly all eight of them. He was nearly done when Laurie's shrieks were quick to interrupt his work, but it was going to be alright. So long as Quentin would go unhook her after the generator was done. 

It only took him a minute to wander through the field of boxes and unhook Laurie. 

The aggressive ping of a second generator from across the estate. Whoever the killer was, they were getting sloppy. 

The blaring Halloween music jarred from silence, Quentin darting straight out of the clearing. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he ran face-first into the notorious Halloween killer. 

And Myers didn't miss when he swung at the nuisance at his chest. Cool steel going through his shoulder, Quentin hissed and immediately doubled back onto the ground. He certainly wasn't going to run in any box fields. 

And soon enough, he was swung up on to his shoulder. 

Wasn't he the one with the flashlight though. This was the end for his team, no way they'd- 

Another generator lit up through the fog of the distance. 

And another one right next to that. 

Myers turned and started his angry march to the second generator, knife raised. 

Nea was sneaking along through the grass, soon pulling him off. Darting off into the grass, Nea's hands trying to push together the wound on his shoulder. Just enough to get him through the trial, at least. 

The music slowed to a record level stop, Quentin motioning to Nea to come with and find another generator. Only two left. 

Dwights shriek ran out through the air. Laurie, too. And Dwight was on a hook. Must've gotten pulled off a generator. Laurie screamed again. Things were picking up now. 

Nea wandered off to go continue her nice savior's ritual, and Quentin went to blind Michael. 

Turning the corner of the large mine, there he was, Laurie on his shoulder. Quentin flicked the flashlight, receiving a heavy grunt from Michael as he dropped Laurie. 

Off to find a new generator, Laurie in front of him. He wouldn't mind taking a hit, so long as Myers wasn't in tier three. 

Dwight was off the hook, and Nea slapped the generator in the area to completion. 

They hadn't won a trial in so long, this was going to be great. 

Hiding out among the boxes, Quentin carefully tried to push muscle and fat back together in a way where it would stick long enough until hit again. 

Myers was so annoying to deal with. 

Spotting a rubble brick building by the high wall encasing them all within the trial, Quentin made his way inside to the generator. It hadn't been started, but that was a price to pay as his hands nimbly made their way to untangling the wires and gears. 

It popped to completion, pistons pumping. They were free. 

The dull totem next to the generator lit up. 

That. That's no-one escapes death. 

He didn't want to waste time, but he had to throw his hands onto it and destroy the thick twine holding the bundle of skulls together. 

He was so close, so ready to leave. 

It snapped in an instant. 

All he needed was an exit, and- 

He was alone. The feeling of no-one else in the trial was overbearing as he sprinted across the estate to the exit. Being so out of breath, he really needed to take Meg up on her offer of running in the woods sometime, didn't he? 

Laurie was limping over to Claudette, as was Dwight and Nea. They wouldn't have gotten out of there if the Hex was active. 

Exciting and terrifying. 

"You did good out there, Quentin," Nea smirked from her bench, shoulder getting sewn up by David. 

"You think so," He plopped down next to the two, Nea nodding. 

"I'll get your shoulder when mine's finished, aight?" 

"Sure." 

Things were going to be good. They survived Myers, each a hook on them, well, save for Nea. 

And he still had his flashlight, but the batteries were nearly drained. You win some, you lose some. 

Today was a good day. Sliding off his jacket so Nea could handle his shoulder, he pondered briefly about taking a nap. 

Sounded like a good idea, after all. No dream demons at the campfire, as far as he was really all that concerned about. Thread puncturing skin and bringing it together again at the muscle's very seams, it was a day well worked in his eyes. 

He got out. 

Moving to the "quieter" corner of the bench, he threw his jacket over himself and sat there for a while, pondering on how exactly he could sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note; If you all are interested, I'm going to be doing a bit of art for this fic and posting it. Let me know whether or not you're interested and if I should post it with the chapter.  
> Also, sorry for the late update. I've been swamped with stuff right now. It'd hard to get a moment's peace. I have the next six chapters drafted, and they'll be on their way very, very soon.


	5. Designation [5]

It was the second Amanda dropped into the heavily air-conditioned bathroom, she remembered exactly what had happened here. It had been one of her more favorited kills, seeing how Adam and Lawrence were so hilarious, stumbling around John's body within the bathroom. 

She'd only seen few moments of the camera's footage, but they were glorious. John truly outdid himself that time. He knew what was wrong with the world, and exactly how to fix it. 

People were insufferable, they didn't truly realize the value of their lives. She, and few others, were lucky to live, yet no-one else was grateful. 

It seemed that the new scum of this world was the same way. Scrambling like animals to remove traps, they never got quite far. She wasn't the best at trials, though she was half decent. At least two of the survivors were dead. The Entity was never displeased with her, and that was enough to get her message across. 

Making her way through the Meat plant, finding new crevices to hide in, soft clunking roused suspicion upstairs. 

Amanda would toy with whoever entered her domain, if even for a minute. 

She threw one of the boxes of heavy nothingness to the floor. A sharp intake of air, not quite a gasp, came from upstairs. 

She'd make them appreciate living. The same way she did. 

Slinking her way up the stairs, she quite a bit surprised to find the office man here. Amanda hadn't quite learned his name, though if the survivors would just speak in their trials like normal humans, she'd have already named them. 

This was office man. Quivering in a corner by the exit of the Gideon Meat Plant, struggling to find the door, despite being right next to it. 

Her breathing grew softer as she observed from the other room. This most certainly, was not a trial for him to struggle through, consistently messing up generators and connecting the wrong wires. 

She smirked a bit, unsheathing her blade and giving the wall a heavy scratch. She could see all the color drain out of his face. 

Making her way behind his hiding space, she continued to do so. Scratching every surface until he was out in the open, eyes wide with terror. 

So, she stepped out behind him, standing at full height. He was only a few inches taller than her, anyways. Nothing intimidating about him though. Scrawny as he was worried, there was no way he could outdo her in any form of combat. 

He was mumbling to himself, having not even seen her yet. A light tap on the shoulder, and she was in front of his original position. 

Turning back, he screamed a loud "FUCK" and jumped back, clearly mortified by the pig's head breathing down his neck. 

"That's so laughable. The lamb mocks the pig, I see," she crooned her neck in order to get a better look at this high school failure. 

"Holy fuck," he chided in return, backing up into the wall. "We’re not even-even in a trial, just don't hurt me please for the love of god." 

"You say that as if I would hurt you in the first place." 

"But you have." 

"Ye have little faith. After all, does man truly have a god to thank for life?" 

"Don't you dare pull a Quentin on me." 

"'Do not you dare', why I think I will." 

"Don't spout all that "god isn't real" stuff, I've heard it a million times over from that dude. Not sleeping and spending the night on your laptop doesn't make you a religious dictator, geez." 

She could feel the smirk crawling up her lips at this point. "What convinces you there is a god, then?" 

"I'm not 'convinced' into anything. I've just heard it so many times-that I'm sick of hearing it." 

"Tell me, what does not live, has a body and head with a hole in it." 

"What." 

She unsheathed her blade for the sheer purpose of annoyance, slowly approaching until she was having a face to face conversation again. "Lifeless, body, and head with hole." 

"Fuck- I-I dunno-" 

"Pinhead." 

He stared, brow furrowing. "A... needle?" 

"You're not as stupid as I thought." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"You, sir, come across as not-so-bright." 

"Oh god, don't do the "Not-so-Dwight" thing, please." 

"I'm not as cruel to do that." She stomped on his foot, lightly. "I'm cruel enough to do that." 

Hearing him hiss and pull his foot up was enough of a laugh in and of itself. 

"You fucking bitch-" 

The loud chiming of a bell cut off anything Amanda could say. 

"You certainly have quite the timing." 

The much taller and skinnier man held his bell in the direction of Dwight, pushing Amanda out of the way. 

"Was just having a chat, you can calm down." 

His blank expression said it all. Pulling Dwight by the shoulder and walking him out of the building. 

Ah, what fun that was. 

Worth it. 

 

And soon enough, she was swept off into the fog. 

All four of them had decided to make the cornfield foggier. It was truly good that this only worked in her favor. 

She found the saboteur right off the bat, plucking him off a generator, and he was straight to a hook. He couldn’t stay around and smash all her hooks to the ground, that was just disgraceful and annoying. 

If she could've, she would have placed a trap on his head though. That was her only real complaint. 

Lurking in the cornfield, she found the track-star, ran around the cattle tree for a while, getting pallets thrown on her face like a luxury. 

Three generators left. Nobody went to save the saboteur, and the track-star on a hook even now. 

Catching the botanist around the tree again, running until the track-star was fine and dandy off the hook. Hitting the Botanist as she passed the cobble walled window, up on the hook she went, and now Amanda just had yet to find the final one. She hadn't even seen them all trial. 

Wandering through one of the flimsy wooden structures, getting a pallet to the face was not on Amanda's agenda. The gambler sat behind the pallet shit eating grin fading as Amanda smashed the thing down, now running for his life. 

She ran him around quite a few of the structures, and even through the shack quite a few times, though upon throwing him to the ground, and a trap on his head, she left him to die there. 

He was picked up soon enough after another generator was completed, but the satisfying crack of the trap was more than evident from where she stalked along in the cornfield. 

Those other two were quick to evade, though. Pulling the exit gates to fruition, they had left. And Amanda made her point loud and clear. 

Trudging back through The Meat Plant, she was more than effective in her trial. The Entity would most likely call her out again for a second trial if it wasn't sated with her progress. 

That was just the way it'd have to be. 

Walking along, the whispers dragging her mentality slowly and surely. Migraine inducing tremors of mentality radiating off of the beast in her mind. 

Was it planning on getting rid of her? Perhaps it wasn't satisfied with her work. 

She needed to sit down, collapsing against the heavy wooden crates nestled against the wall. The stench of metal thick in the air. 

A completely bloodstained blade and sheath appeared in front of her. 

So, she had been doing well enough. Good to see that those above her were happy with her work. Standing up and removing the old one, the newer blade was strapped to her wrist. 

It was much, much sharper. By a mile. 

She probably should have been sharpening the old one, though it really didn't matter now. 

Amanda took another look at the Meat Plant. 

Perhaps she'd take a quick walk out into the woods, but that was a morally gray idea. Walking out into the territory of others who share her "passion" might provoke some disingenuous hatred for her. After all, Phillip didn't quite seem too fond of her in the first place. 

After all, she hadn't really gone out to explore the Realm much and wasn't planning on doing such anytime soon. 

Pacing through the Meat Plant a moment longer, going up and down whichever staircase she could find. Her mental map rarely faltered, but it was good to still continuously have a well thought out plan for how to get through her own pocket dimension. 

The blood still rusted and stained the inlay of the floor, inoperable cranes left to collect spider webs and grime of the ages long past her. 

There had to be a time limit to where the old age of the Meat Plant's inevitable destruction ended up ceasing, the decay no longer able to continue through the horrors of the Entity, Gideon Meat Plant ending in a pile of rubble due to John's old purification. 

She'd already scoped out every possible hiding spot in the entire place. 

Maybe wandering into other realms was in order.


	6. Author's (QUICK) Note

I really, really despise making Author's notes.  
The 6th chapter is a WIP, I promise.  
I have all the chapters up to the 12th chapter drafted, and completely ready to be put into the works. 

Lately, I've been getting a lot of commissions, a couple birthday gifts to be working on, and I'm writing something for a friend. I hardly have any time to myself, and when I do, it's hours of constant stress about how I should be working.  
I will hopefully be returning and posting a new chapter by the 23rd, and if I haven't, everyone has the right to hound me.  
Things have been really busy, and I'm excited to start work on this again, I just can't when I'm working on so much right now. 

I'm also tempted to draw little bits and pieces of the chapters in MsPaint, just for fun. Leave your thoughts, if you'd like to see that.

Thank you all so much for your patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a


	7. Longer Hiatus?

I can't mentally keep up with writing fanfiction with everything that's been going on this summer.  
To get briefly personal, I genuinely don't think I've been doing the original idea I had for this fic any justice.  
I still love writing, and most likely will write another day, but as of now, I don't think my work is worthy of the general public.  
My mental state has been in a massive struggle this summer, which isn't something I'm proud of. Tiredness seeps through me at every waking point of every day.  
I won't be continuing this, I may rewrite it on a further day, but for the time being, this fic is condemned.   
I'm not deleting it, just in case anyone did genuinely enjoy it, or perhaps have suggestions.  
I'm very sorry, just keep working on whatever it is you do, because you're doing great.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I'll hopefully be updating regularly this summer. Every other day or every 3-4 days.   
> I'll be taking suggestions for who's perspective to write about, as well as little tips as well! Just leave a comment for whatever you're concerned with in my writing.  
> I'm also sorry if this tends to be very OOC, I promise I'm trying to get better at writing these kinds of characters! If you have suggestions, you are more than welcome to slap them in the comments.


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